


Look What The Wind Blew In

by TriaKane



Series: Designated Hitter [5]
Category: Leverage
Genre: F/M, Mary Sue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-12
Updated: 2012-02-12
Packaged: 2017-10-31 01:48:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/338541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TriaKane/pseuds/TriaKane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eliot has a weekend layover in Chicago with a new friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Look What The Wind Blew In

**Author's Note:**

> OFC is Highlander immortal and telepathic. 
> 
> Title borrowed from a Chris Trapper song of the same name.
> 
> Accidentally referred to the Christian Kane song "Callin' All Country Girls", then I went back and did it on purpose. :)

I recognize his number the instant it comes up on my caller ID. 

“Hey, you,” I say, stepping away from the conference table without a word to the people gathered.

“Hey, you,” he answers softly.

“Where are you?” I ask him.

He sighs heavily and I can hear the weariness in his voice. “Chicago.”

“Perfect,” I tell him, “I’m in Minneapolis. I can be there in a couple hours.”

His thoughts make me smile; he's glad I can meet him.

“What hotel do y—” he starts.

“I have a place.” I rattle off the address, knowing how good his memory is.

 _Lake Shore Drive?_ I hear. I know he understands I'm wealthy, but I think he's just not very comfortable with it yet.

“It’s number 16A. I’ll call ahead and tell the concierge to let you in. Make yourself at home.”

“Okay,” he said, but I can hear doubt in his voice and thoughts.

“See you later.”

I disconnect the call and immediately dial my pilot.

“Ms. O’Neil?”

“Derek, I need you to change the flight plan; I want to go to Chicago.” I look over my shoulder at the room full of people waiting for me. “I’ll be there in half an hour.”

“I’ll message you when it’s set.”

I walk back over to the table but don’t assume my seat. The contract is good, but I know it can be better. I’d thoroughly investigated the company, the staff, the board of directors and the products; I wanted in but I was willing to walk away if they didn’t sweeten the deal. I knew they were in financial trouble and they knew my resources could solve their problems. I also knew that making this investment would be mutually beneficial. They wanted it, I wanted it, now all I had to do was make them accept it.

“I’ll need 6% more shares in exchange for an additional 3%.” I look the CEO square in the eyes. “This is my best and final offer.” I hear what I want to hear but I stand firm, waiting for him to say it out loud. 

“Ms. O’Neil, you are a tough negotiator,” Walter Gaines says as he stands to shake my hand.

Returning his grip, I smile, “As are you. I’ll be back Monday to sign the final contracts.”

In the taxi, I call to arrange for Eliot’s arrival.

“The Adeline, this is Ben, how may I help you?” 

I recognize his name and voice; he is the day manager.

“Ben, this is Lynae O’Neil.”

“Ms. O’Neil, what I can I do for you today?”

“I have a guest arriving this afternoon and I’ll need you to let him in the condo. Please take care of him until I arrive.”

“Very good. Your guest’s name?”

“Eliot Spencer.”

“I’ll show him up to your condo myself,” Ben assures me. “Is there anything else I can help you with today, Ms. O’Neil?”

“Not right now. Thank you, Ben.”

“My pleasure.”

@@@

It was mid-afternoon when my town car pulls up in front of The Adeline. It's a 24 story luxury condo building in the heart of Chicago. It boasts luxury living with exceptional views of Lake Michigan. A former office building, The Adeline was renovated ten years prior and the condos sold like water in the desert. The untold story was that I’d bought the office building, moved the company and had overseen the renovations myself. I hadn’t chosen a penthouse condo, but instead, I’d chosen a floor with morning and evening sun and a great view. It was also near an emergency stairwell in case I needed a quick exit.

“Hello, Ms. O’Neil,” the newest door man acknowledges as he holds open the massive glass and wrought iron door.

“Thank you, Chris.” I smile at him before continuing in.

Ben steps in beside me as I walk towards the elevator.

“Welcome home, Ms. O’Neil.”

“Thank you. It’s good to be back.”

A man of little small talk, Ben continues, “Mr. Spencer arrived approximately two hours ago.” 

He pushes the call button for the elevator and turns to me. 

“Is there anything else you need right now, ma’am?” he asks, handing me the condo key.

I know there is very little food in the fridge or pantry, so we’ll have to go out for dinner. It's already four, and a Friday, but I know residents of The Adeline have some pull in getting last minute reservations.

“Can you see if Terracotta or Ivory Tower can get us in for dinner this late?”

“Of course, I’ll do my best,” Ben pauses, then adds. “Perhaps you’ll let me recommend a new restaurant that just opened.”

The mental images he draws are enough. That, and his reputation.

“I trust your opinion, Ben. Please make the reservation for 7.”

“Very good, Ms. O’Neil.”

I step onto the waiting elevator, ready to see Eliot.

@@@

I hear his thoughts before the door opens completely, and he’s right there closing the door behind me and kissing me. It takes me two seconds to drop my bag and the key to the floor and wrap my arms around him.

“Nice to see you, too,” I say between kisses.

He growls – GROWLS – against my neck and I feel his teeth graze my skin. I am instantly ready for him.

My hands register bare skin as they caress his shoulders and down his back. I squeeze his ass and laugh. Yes, I had missed this, especially with this man.

His hands fumble with the tiny buttons on my shirt and I push him back a fraction and looking steadily into his eyes, I rip it open, sending the buttons skittering across the hardwood floors.

“Damn,” he says before cupping my breasts through the lacy bra. 

He latches onto a nipple through the material, squeezing and pinching the other one. His thoughts are going a mile a minute, the want and desire in them make me weak in the knees. 

I reach for his cock then, but he relinquishes his hold on my breasts and grips my wrists instead.

“Not so fast,” he whispers with a delightedly naughty tone. His thoughts become more focused, thrilling me even more. I make a split second decision to tune him out and just enjoy the ride. 

He slips off my silk blouse before turning me to face the door. With one hand, he holds my wrists above me, the other skims down my back as he softly kisses my shoulders and neck.

I felt him unzip my skirt and it slips down my bare legs; I step out of it in anticipation. His right hand caresses and then squeezes an ass cheek. 

“Spread your legs,” he commands against my neck.

I close my eyes and hold my breath as I do as he requests. I feel him press his body against me, holding me in the position he wants and waits. He releases my hands but I leave them where they are, waiting.

Slowly, teasingly, I feel his hands make their way down my body, sliding between me and the door to squeeze my breasts again, pinching the nipples hard enough to make me gasp. His teeth against my shoulder make me shudder. His hands continue down, sliding over my ass, grasping it firmly and then they were gone. He licks the skin behind my ear and blows on it lightly; I purr softly.

And then his fingers are inside my panties, inside me, pushing their way in, finger fucking me as I try to catch my breath. I lose my control and his thoughts flood over me.

_Yeah, baby. I know that feels good. I want you so wet. I wanna fuck you so bad. Mmm... slide my cock deep inside you. Oh, yeah..._

Mercifully, his fingers shift and he’s stroking my clit and I'm there, I'm ready, coming and trembling and calling out.

“Elll... ohh…”

His weight shifts away from me, his hands grip my hips and he bends me forward. Tugging my panties to the side, he glides inside me. I brace my hands on the door and meet each of his thrusts with one of my own. The sound of flesh slapping together and our grunts of pleasure are the soundtrack to this coupling. It’s hard, it’s fast, it’s perfect.

“Come, baby, come for me,” I grunt and it's all the encouragement he needs. He pounds into me twice more, then grips my hips and comes with a satisfying groan. 

Straightening up, he presses up against my back, his arms wrapping around me. I’m not sure if he’s holding me up or I’m holding him up, but I grin just the same.

“It’s nice to see you, too,” he says, and we both laugh.

@@@

After another pleasant bout of rowdy sex, I call downstairs to reschedule our dinner plans.

“Ben, can you reschedule the reservation for tomorrow night, same time?”

“I’m sure that’s no problem, Ms. O’Neil. Is there somewhere else you’d like to go tonight?”

“No, I think we’re gonna go simpler.”

“Very good.”

I hang up the phone as Eliot walks out of the bathroom. The sight of him with damp hair, water droplets clinging to his skin and a towel hanging precariously low on his hips makes me nearly rethink eating out and eating him for dinner instead.

“What’s up?” he asks.

“Just canceled dinner plans,” I say. “How does Chicago style deep dish pizza sound?”

“Don’t they just call it ‘pizza’ here?” he teases.

“I think they do,” I reply as I slip by him to take a shower of my own.

@@@

When I emerged from the bedroom in black jeans, stiletto booties and a burgundy bustier, I find Eliot waiting for me on the couch, a cooking program on the television, the volume turned down low. Earlier, when he’d arrived, he’d found the washer and dryer and took the time to wash his clothes. I still find it humorous that he travels with no luggage when he's working. 

He's wearing jeans and a black button up shirt. I’m sure there is a white wife-beater under that shirt and just as sure I’d be wearing it later.

Flipping off the television, Eliot rises and steps toward me. While he isn’t overly tall, I'm 5’7” to start with, and in 4-inch heels, I'm slightly taller than he is. Some men might feel emasculated or undersized, but Eliot takes it in stride. Besides, I know he enjoys my long legs and the look of high heels on a woman.

Eliot picks up the light shawl I’d set on the couch and drapes it over my shoulders. Moving my loosely braided hair out of the way, he kisses my shoulder softly and says, “You look pretty.”

“Thank you,” I reply as we head out.

@@@

It’s just a little hole in the wall place that Ben recommends but the pizza is good and the beer is cold. Sitting in a booth in the back of the restaurant, we sit close together, our arms brushing every time we move. I like touching him, and I know he enjoys my touch as well. 

I tell him about the business I’d been handling in Minneapolis and he skims over why he’s in Chicago in the first place. We both have places to be on Monday, so we don’t waste time with the unimportant. 

After dinner, we take a taxi to a little Irish pub that I’d been to a couple of times. 

I recognize the guy behind the bar, the owner and bartender, Sean Callahan. His Irish accent is a warm welcome and a reminder of home.

“Lynae!” he says, gesturing me over.

“Sean, it’s good to see you.” I accept his hug.

“It’s good to be seen!” His hearty laugh fills the small pub. I feel his thoughts shift from me and I turn.

“Sean, this is my friend, Eliot,” I introduce them.

Sean thrusts out his meaty hand and pumps Eliot’s heartily. 

“‘Bout time you got a good cock in the hen house,” Sean sasses.

Eliot barks out a laugh and I can’t help but join in. 

Still laughing, we take seats at the bar and Sean set two pints of Guinness in front of us. 

“He’s a character,” Eliot says, after a sip.

“Definitely.”

I can hear so many questions swirling around in Eliot’s head. How long had I been coming here? Have I ever brought another man here? I want to tell him that no, I’ve never brought anyone with me to this bar, that hearing Sean speak make me miss Ireland. That I am glad I brought him here, but I keep silent.

“So,” I finally say, “you’re a whiskey drinker, right? Mostly American whiskey or Canadian?”

“American, but also some Irish whisky too.”

A flickering thought drifts by of someone named Nate and a bar called McRory’s.

I smile and signal Sean. 

“How about a taste test?”

Eliot’s eyes crinkle in amusement. “Okay.”

He thinks I’m trying to get him drunk. Huh, should be fun to try.

@@@

He isn’t drunk, not by a long shot, but definitely feeling the warmth of our taste test. Irish whiskey, single malt and blended, and then Scottish whisky, single malt and blended. As the night progresses, we add in some American and Canadian for comparison. His favorite is the Jameson Gold Reserve; mine is the Bushmills 10 year old, but the Scottish Glennfiddich is a close second. We cleanse our palate between tastings with sips of Guinness. 

The bar has gotten louder and more crowded as the night wears on. Men in business suits stand around after a long work day, couples sit at small tables, talking and laughing. It’s a good crowd. Mostly.

I learned long ago when to start a fight and when to finish one. I see Eliot’s attention drawn away from me when a boisterous man takes a position behind me at the bar. His voice rings loud even in the din of noise around us. I am about to suggest we leave when the man slaps a waitress on the ass as she walks by him. The action also causes him to bump into my stool and spill some of his beer down my back.

Eliot is half off his stool when I stand up, putting my hand on his shoulder. I didn’t need to hear his thoughts, my own were enough. While I’d love to see Eliot rip this guy a new one, in Sean’s bar I prefer to keep things quiet and not break the furniture. I see Sean heading over in response to a complaint from his waitress.

I hold up my hands, both to Eliot and Sean. 

“I’ve got this,” I assure them with a smile.

The jerk turns to face me as I step behind him.

“You want some,” the jerk says with a laugh. 

The friend with him laughs too but I sense a slight hesitation.

The jerk reaches out to touch me and that’s all the invitation I need. I grab him by the wrist, spin him around and slam his head into the heavy wooden bar, pinning his arm to his back with a wrist hold.

“I wouldn’t,” I hear Eliot say and know he’s speaking to the man’s friend.

The jerk I’ve got pinned against the bar struggles against me and I tighten my grip on his wrist.

“The more you struggle, the tighter the grip gets,” I say close to his ear.

He stops struggling but his thoughts are full of fury; he’s trying to figure a way out.

Still close to his ear, I say, “There are 206 bones in the human body and 27 of those are in the hand. How many do you think I can break with this hold?”

He grunts in response, his mental clarity altered by the alcohol and anger.

“You have two choices,” I continue. “You can apologize for being an asshole and pay our tab or we can play a game where we see how many bones I can break, and then how many my friend here can break.”

The jerk turns his head to look at Eliot, who, bless his heart, has a dangerously threatening look on his face.

“He has bigger hands than I do, so while I might only break 5, he could probably break about 9.” I pause for effect and to let my words sink in. “You don’t actually work with your hands, do you?”

Thoughts of a computer desk job fill my head.

“Huh, that’s too bad,” I whisper.

“Lenny, pay their tab and let’s get the fuck out of here,” his friend pleads.

“Yeah, Lenny, take the smart way out of this.” I look around the bar to see how much attention we’ve attracted, knowing he’s worried about saving face, but see very few people looking our way. “So far, I’ve kept this quiet. It doesn’t have to be the hard way.”

His body relaxes a fraction and I feel him concede. I ease off on my grip and take a step away, feeling Eliot move closer. The guy, Lenny, reaches into his back pocket for his wallet.

“How much?” he asks Sean, who was watching the whole scene play out. 

While Lenny and his friend pool their money to pay our hefty tab, Eliot and I resume our seats. With the tab paid, Lenny and his friend head for the door without a glance back.

“So, what are you going to do for an encore?” Eliot asks with a grin.

I throw back my head and laugh, loud and carefree. He’s wonderful.

@@@

His dreams drift into my subconscious; it has been a while since I’ve slept with someone. In fact, the last person I slept with was Eliot but I don’t remember his dreams waking me then. 

Ah, he's dreaming of me. Wow, dreaming of me sucking his cock. Yeah, maybe that's why his dreams woke me. 

Pressed up close against me, I can feel his heat of his body through the sheet. Opening my eyes, I take my time looking at him. His head is turned away from me and his right arm is thrown over his head. My eyes caress his ribcage and lean stomach as I make my way down, following the thin trail of hair from his bellybutton until it disappears under the pale blue sheet. The tented pale blue sheet.

I hope he likes morning blow jobs.

Careful not to wake him, I slide slowly down the bed and ease under the sheet. It can be dangerous to wake a sleeping man who has quick reflexes but I decide to take this as a challenge.

I grip his cock and slowly stroke it up and down once and then again. He shifts but isn’t fully awake yet. I move closer and take the head into my mouth, sucking softly.

“Jezzuss...” his voice trembles as he fully awakens.

His hips thrust up into my mouth and I take his length down, my hands gripping his hips to hold him steady so I can continue pleasuring him. His hands find my head as he fucks my mouth, his dream now a reality. He’s so ready. I release one hip and throw back the covers so I can watch him come. I love making him lose it this fast.

Pushing his hips firmly down, I take him all the way down my throat and swallow. His body shudders under me and he’s coming and cussing; his face is contorted in magnificent agony. Gorgeous.

I slowly crawl up his body, licking his bellybutton and both nipples as I go. His eyes are closed and he’s breathing hard. 

_What a way to wake up,_ he thinks and I have to agree. I kiss his chin, the tip of his nose and his cheek before sliding off the bed.

“Wha... where you going?” he manages to ask as he sits up.

“Gonna take a shower. You wanna come?” I ask saucily. 

“Bet your sweet ass,” he says as he jumps out of bed and chases me into the bathroom.

@@@

Over brunch I tell him about the dinner reservations for tonight.

“I’m gonna take you shopping today,” I tell him but immediately hear his thoughts go into overdrive.

“Whoa, Lyn,” he starts, “you don’t have to do that.”

Ah, I hear the unspoken comments about him having his own money and not wanting to feel like a ‘kept’ man.

“You’re right, I don’t have to. I want to.”

His resistance is almost a palpable wall between us.

“Okay, how about this.”

He leans back in his chair and crosses his arms over his chest. No need to read his mind, the body language is clear enough.

“How about I buy clothes for you and you buy clothes for me?”

I can see the beginning of a grin and consciously tune his thoughts out. I like surprises as much as the next girl.

“Okay,” he nods, “you’re on.”

I wonder what I’ve gotten myself into as we part ways but my mind’s already racing with my own thoughts.

@@@

Three hours later I arrive back at The Adeline with one small blue bag and I find Eliot coming out of the bedroom.

“I might be a bit underdressed if all you bought for me to wear is in that bag,” he says with a laugh, pointing to the Tiffany’s bag.

“Hmm... that would sure be interesting though,” I point out. “My purchases will be delivered later.”

He smiles and takes the blue bag from my fingers.

“So, what do you want to do until then?” 

“How about a movie?” I suggest.

I’ve surprised and disappointed him at the same time, but he’s game for whatever and we head out.

@@@

The condo looks like a fashion show exploded, packaging from high end retailers all over the living room and bedroom.

I bought him a Hugo Boss suit (black 2-piece), a Gucci navy dress shirt with French cuffs and Dolce & Gabbana dress shoes. I also included Calvin Klein undershirts, trunks and socks. And a single pair of black pure silk boxers. 

Oh, and the little box from Tiffany’s... silver and onyx cuff links. 

He bought me a Valentino dress (sleeveless black with a mesh yoke and flared skirt), Manolo Blahnik black slingbacks and a Vera Wang red crocodile wristlet. He took a decidedly naughty twist and bought lingerie from La Perla... corset, thong and stay up stockings with a wide lace top. 

The little box from Tiffany’s he gave me had silver mesh dangle earrings. 

Standing face to face, I can’t help but think how much he looks like a male model. Hell, he looks good enough to eat. For days. But then, that would spoil going out and showing him off. He’s... I hate to say it, knowing how much he hates the word, but he’s beautiful. His hair is loose but styled, and his scruff adds to his sexy factor.

His thoughts almost make me blush. He’s thinking about how having my hair pulled up with the long earrings hanging down makes my neck look long, and how my bare shoulders and arms look lean but yet perfect for kissing and caressing. And as he looks down, his thoughts shift to the stockings he picked out and how much he wants to see them. Just them and the high heels. Oh, that can definitely be arranged. 

If we don’t leave soon, we’re going to fight about who’s on top.

“Oh,” I say as I reach for the little blue bag, “I have something else for you.”

I reach back into the Tiffany’s bag and hand him a small velvet pouch. Pulling out a pair of small silver hoop earrings, he cocks his head at me and I hear his question.

“I noticed that you have holes in your ears. I thought maybe...” I trail off. 

“Yeah,” he says with a smile, “yeah.”

Stepping in front of the mirror in the entry way, he reaches up to slide the earrings in the seldom used holes. I can’t help but admire the way the suit stretches across his broad shoulders and fits him like a glove. And the way he eases into a well dressed gentleman, as if he wears clothes like this every day.

I feel something I haven’t felt in a long time, something indefinable but so real that it makes my breath catch in my throat. He makes me feel... it’s crazy, but he makes me feel feminine and delicate and strong and capable all at the same time. 

He turns then, an indecipherable expression on his face, and even though I want to know, I’m afraid to know at the same time, and consciously tune him out. He’s... I just want to experience this moment with him without knowing what he’s thinking. 

“You look stunning,” he says, leaning in and kissing me softly. 

“Thank you,” I say. “You look very handsome yourself.”

“What? This old thing?”

We share a laugh as we head out, his hand cozily in the small of my back.

@@@

We show up early for our reservation at Round. (pronounced Round dot) restaurant and take a seat at the bar for a pre-dinner cocktail. Eliot orders for us and a few minutes later the bartender sets a Manhattan down in front of each of us. I’m pleased and impressed; a Manhattan is a classic and classy pre-dinner cocktail. With every thing I learn about him, it makes me curious to know more.

As we sip our drinks, a willowy brunette walks by. She stops at Eliot’s elbow and draws both of our attention.

“Excuse me,” she says softly, “I just wanted to say that you make a lovely couple.”

Eliot smiles at me and winks.

“Thank you,” I respond graciously.

Gently she runs her hand across Eliot’s forearm and then steps closer to me, caressing my bicep, before she walks away.

Shaking his head, he laughs and says, “What was that?”

Turning, I look to see where she has gone, I see her standing at the far end of the bar, looking at us. She winks and smiles before I turn back to Eliot.

Her thoughts are provocative. Very provocative.

“She’s flirting with you,” I tell him.

He shakes his head in disagreement. “Nah, she’s flirting with you.”

I take another sip of my drink and look at her again, trying to hone in on her thoughts. Oh... ohh... 

I turn back to him. He’s still smiling at me, his eyes sparkling with mirth. 

I lean into him, my hand resting on his and whisper, “I think she’s flirting with **both** of us.”

I watch his eyes dart to where she’s standing and his thoughts run through me. He realizes that I’m right and his eyes are back on me.

“Oh.”

Before I can say anything else, the hostess is ready to seat us.

@@@

Round. is indeed a round restaurant. The tables, well, they aren’t tables, they’re booths, all round, that can seat 2 generously, 4 comfortably and 6 closely. Each booth has tall sides and can only be accessed from the opening. Adding to their intimacy, the openings are turned so that other patrons can’t look across the restaurant and see each other. 

Everything, including our meal is in keeping with the restaurant theme. Round dinner rolls, round pats of butter, round vegetables, round plates, round napkins. It was definitely unique. Even being in the middle of a crowded restaurant, the booth made the experience quite intimate, and perhaps that’s what made me throw caution to the wind.

“So,” I say after dinner, while we sip the last of the wine, “have you ever had a threesome?”

His hand freezes in midair, the wine glass tilted precariously. His thoughts freeze in a similar manner and if I hadn’t known my secret was just that, I would have to guess he was shielding his thoughts from me. 

“Um, what?” he asks, setting the wine glass down.

“Threesome,” I say softly, “have you ever had one?”

Ah, he was back with me, his thoughts coming a mile a minute as I try to sort them out.

“Why do you ask?”

“Why do you keep answering a question with a question?”

“Am I?” 

And then he laughs, realizing he was.

“Yes.”

My eyes met his.

“Yes, I’ve had one.”

 _Or two or three,_ his thoughts tell me. I answer the unspoken question.

“So have I.”

We gaze at each other for a long minute.

“Did you want—”

“You think—”

We spoke at the same time and laugh at ourselves. I knew he was going to ask me exactly what I had been ready to ask him. Did you want to have a threesome with that woman? It was crazy. But it was out there. Yet... there's something else, another feeling he's trying to hold back, and I need to know what it is before we go any further.

“The problem with threesomes,” I start, and have his undivided attention, “is that I don’t share well.”

He lets out a heavy sigh and grins crookedly at me. “Me either.”

We finish our wine and decline dessert, ready to head home for our own special kind of dessert.

@@@

He enjoys the sight of me in the stockings and high heels so much, that he can’t wait to get between my legs. He’s teasing me with his tongue, taking me so close and then backing off. He’s enjoying driving me crazy.

I’m enjoying his thoughts almost as much as his actions. Yes, he’s driving me crazy with need but his mood, his thoughts are so playful.

His fingers take up where his tongue leaves off, sliding in and out of me, stroking deep, angling perfectly and then backing off. Occasionally, a finger skates over my other opening and I wonder if it’s accidental or on purpose. He’s keeping me so off kilter, that I can’t focus on his thoughts long enough to know for sure. Finally, I have to ask.

“Is that something you want?” I ask him after another round of his teasing tongue.

He cocks his head at me, unsure of what I’m asking.

“Do you wanna do me in the ass?” 

His breath catches and I hear his mental answer. Yeah, that’s something I can give him.

“Let me come and it’s yours,” I tell him.

He smiles slow and sexy and lowers his head again. His tongue hones in on my clit and he’s dancing over it like a professional dancer, his fingers sliding in and stroking so perfectly that I can’t help but cry out.

“Yes, Elll... that’s... ohh… ohhh...” And I’m coming and it’s so good and and and... oh yes...

He’s kissing his way up my body, his lips and tongue leaving a trail of wetness. His teeth are a sharp contrast to the sated tiredness that’s taken me over.

“I need something,” he whispers against my throat before I feel his teeth again on my neck.

“Top drawer.”

He’s back in an instant, lifting my legs onto his shoulders and I feel two slick fingers slide into my ass. 

I watch his face as he prepares me; he’s totally fixed on what he’s doing, and it’s turning me on even more. His thoughts are kerosene washing over me. He wants to be inside me. _Mmm... so tight, gonna feel so good, ohh... yeah..._

“please...” I can’t wait anymore.

He looks up at me, his eyes so dark and intense. 

“You sure?” he asks, he has to be sure.

“yes... please...”

And he’s there, the blunt head of his cock pushing passed the guardian ring, gripping him tight.

“Aw, god, Lyn...”

“push...” I mumble, but he’s heard me and he’s easing his way in. He’s sliding smoothly inside as I take a deep breath and release it. He’s all the way in.

I feel my body tremble and then realize it’s Eliot who is trembling.

“Move,” I tell him, and he slowly slides nearly all the way out before pushing back in. “Mmm... yes, again.”

He repeats his action, moving a little quicker this time.

“You’re so tight,” he pants, as he continues to move in and out of me.

“...feel so good inside me...”

I reach down and slowly start stroking myself. His eyes follow the movement of my fingers, and the rhythm of his thrusts fall into sync. He’s so hard inside me, feels so good filling me, and I’m driving us to an explosive conclusion. He falters for a split second as he slides his fingers inside my dripping wet pussy but he recovers quickly. I’m so close and I know he can feel it too. I’m right there... and his cock slams into me one last time, as deep as he can go and I’m losing it.

“Mmm... coming... oh, Elll...”

“Yeah, ohhh... yeahh...” And he’s coming, I can feel his cock throbbing in my ass, filling me.

He’s leaning above me, his breath coming hard and fast. His eyes are dark and unreadable, but I’m too tired to probe. I feel him slip from my body and ease off the bed. I hear the sound of running water in the bathroom and a few minutes later he’s back with a warm washcloth, rolling me on to my side and gently wiping me clean.

I’m very nearly asleep when he curls his body up against mine and kisses my neck. 

“...sweet dreams, darlin’...” I hear him mumble just before I fall asleep.

@@@

I wake to the smell of... coffee? Yesterday morning, Eliot had scoured the kitchen cabinets and the refrigerator looking for anything resembling food, and other than some condiments, he found nothing. So, where did the coffee come from?

Before I can get up and investigate, Eliot pushes open the bedroom door, carrying a tray.

“Good morning,” he says with a smile.

“What’s this?”

“Breakfast,” he answers, setting the tray next to me on the bed. An omelet, toast, juice, coffee, and I’m reminded of our first breakfast together.

He isn’t a mind reader, but the question must be clearly written on my face.

“I ran out earlier,” he tells me. “Ben told me about a farmer’s market a couple blocks over, and what I couldn’t get there, I found at a small grocery down the street.”

I don’t know what startles me the most, that he went out and I didn’t wake up, or that he came back and I still didn’t wake up. He just bowls over all my walls and years of self-defense; how is it a mortal can make me feel so safe?

There’s enough food for two on the tray, so while he digs in, I excuse myself to the bathroom. I smile to myself as he averts his eyes from my nude body. Such a gentleman. When I come back, his eyes follow me as I climb back into bed.

“What?” I ask, but know it’s something about what I’m wearing.

“Never envied clothing before,” he says around a sip of orange juice.

I grab my mug of coffee as I smile at him. It’s just a simple white wife-beater and black silk boxers. His.

“You want ‘em back, you’ll have to take ‘em off me.”

“Sounds like a challenge.”

“Think you’re up to it?” I ask as I cut into the omelet.

He grins that I’m-gonna-fuck-you-into-oblivion grin and says, “I can be.”

I take a bite of the omelet; it’s amazingly light and fluffy, and gooey with cheese. 

“This is really good,” I say, already cutting another bite.

“What did you expect? Greasy diner food?”

@@@

He makes me (right, like anyone can make me do something I don’t want to do) stay in bed while he takes the tray back to the kitchen. When he returns, he heads straight into the bathroom where I hear the water start to run.

Coming back into the bedroom, he holds out his hand. I take it and he gently pulls me up.

“Why don’t you soak in the tub for a while?” he suggests.

At first, I think we’re going to soak together; it wouldn’t be the first time, but his thoughts are shaded from me, and what I’m feeling from him isn’t sexual.

Standing in front of him, I lift my arms above my head in child-like fashion. Smiling, he grabs the hem and pulls it off in a swift move. He pulls me into a tight hug and kisses my bare shoulder. His hands caress my back and then slip down, and he releases me to drag the boxers down. 

Holding his hand, I step into the filling tub. I cast a glance at the vanity and his eyes follow my gaze. He watches me twist my hair up and then he hands me a hair clip to secure it. Easing into the warm water, Eliot sits on the edge of the tub.

“Too hot?” he asks, seeing a small grimace.

“No, it feels good.”

When the tub is full, he turns the water off and slowly trails his hand up towards me.

“Relax, Lyn,” he tells me, cupping my cheek and tracing his thumb over my lips. “I’m gonna clean up the dishes.”

I nod, and watch him gather up the discarded clothes and used towels before he leaves. He pulls the bathroom door behind him, leaving it open a fraction, so he can hear me in case I call to him.

His behavior has me totally confused. The breakfast in bed, I get. Drawing me a bath? Doing laundry? Sure, I know he has a little neat freak thing going on, but really? What’s different today from yesterday? I try to tune into him, but he’s completely wrapped up in the dishes and the laundry.

I ease down into the water to think. Whatever it is, I’ll get it out of him sooner or later.

@@@

Just as I’m starting to think that the water’s getting too cold to stay in the tub any longer, Eliot appears with a warm towel from the dryer. He’s very attentive to my needs (not that he isn’t that way usually) but there’s definitely something not quite right with him. I try to tune into him again, but he’s so guarded, almost like he knows I can feel his thoughts.

I finally have to ask a question I’ve spent most of my life not asking.

“What’s wrong?” I ask as he holds my bathrobe up for me.

“Nothing,” he answers too quickly, but it’s cracked his guard a bit. There’s definitely something wrong and it has to do with me. With him... hurting me?

I think back to the night before. To... oh, we... 

“Is it because I let you...”

His eyes meet mine in the mirror. Hurt. He feels like he might have... spoiled something?

“What?” I ask him.

“There was... there was blood,” he says so very softly.

There we go, he’s an open book again. He’s afraid that his actions caused me to be hurt and that it will change how I look at him. Oh, my. How do I tell him that he can’t physically hurt me? That I enjoy anal sex? That last night, the whole night, meant more to me than I can put into words?

I turn in his arms, cupping his face in my hands. It takes a good 20 seconds before his eyes meet mine.

“I’m okay, Eliot. There’s no permanent damage. Sometimes there’s blood,” I assure him. “You’ve done that before, you know there can be blood.”

He grits his teeth every time I say the word blood. 

“What?” I know there’s more but he’s holding it in so tightly.

“I never... I didn’t **care** before.”

Care? Care… oh. We were on the same page now and I need him to know I that.

“I’m glad you care now,” I reassure. “Don’t you know yet, anything I have, is yours. Anything you want, I’ll give you.”

He hugs me fiercely, so tight I can barely breathe, and I’m hugging him back with the same ferocity. His feelings wash through him, filling me with so much emotion and tenderness that my eyes burn with unshed tears. 

It’s so quick, these feelings we’re sharing, that we can’t put them into words. We’ve known each other such a short amount of time but have shared so much of who we are. I don’t think he’s ready to make any declarations; I know I’m not. Right now, realizing that we’re having feelings is enough. It’s terrifying and exhilarating at the same time. 

There’s plenty of time for more later.

@@@

We spend the lazy Sunday afternoon in. Eliot offers me the clean white wife-beater and the black silk boxers, which I put on with a smile. Putting the Bears pre-season game on, Eliot mutes the television and I check my email. I think about going downstairs to the gym, but he seems to want me nearby, and a comfortable silence settles into the condo.

A while later, hearing thunder in the distance, I shut down my laptop, curling up in the plush chaise lounge in front of the large windows overlooking Lake Michigan. I’m sure nature is about to put on a fantastic show as the sky slowly darkens and raindrops pepper the glass. 

Lightning flashes throughout the condo and the rain pelts heavily against the glass, thunder cracks sharply overhead. I hear Eliot switch off the TV and feel him next to me soon after. He curls up behind me and rests a comfortable arm across my stomach, holding me tight against him. 

The storm continues to build in intensity as I feel him start of kiss my neck and his hand gently caresses my breasts. I turn in his embrace, seeking his kisses. 

We kiss slowly, languidly, playfully, his hand is now under my shirt, pinching my nipples gently. I pull back from him slightly, enough to focus on his face, and push his hair behind his ear. His eyes say so much in that moment and it makes my heart skip a beat. 

“Make love to me,” I breathe against his lips.

His answer is immediate and obvious. He pulls me on top of him, holding my hair back and kissing me with every ounce of passion he possesses. Our tongues dance back and forth, speaking without uttering a single word. 

I feel one of his hands slide down my back and under my shirt, teasing my flesh with his fingertips. He dips his hand below the waistband of the boxers and he gently kneads my ass, pulling me up against him in a delightful way.

I break our kiss, we’re both flushed and excited, and lean down to flick the silver hoop in his ear with my tongue. He growls when I grasp it with my teeth and tug tenderly, so I do it again. Remembering his ticklish spot, I circle my tongue just below his ear, right where his stubble stops and he thrusts up against me, squeezing my ass harder. I reach between us and find one of his nipples and pinch it as I let him feel the sharp edge of my teeth on his neck.

I howl in surprise as he suddenly flips us over, pinning my arms above my head with one hand and dropping his head to tease my neck. While not ticklish, my neck is extremely sensitive (duh, I’m an immortal) and his tongue is doing an amazing job of turning me on. His thoughts are pushing all my buttons. 

He wants so much to draw this out, to tease and torment me until I’m nearly incoherent with need, but he also can’t wait to get inside me, to feel how wet and tight I am around him. 

His fingers are teasing me through the boxers, stroking so softly, that I try to push into his touch, but he won’t have any of that. This is his show. I am his to please and tease. _Mmm... that feels so good, doesn’t it? Love how eager you are..._

Releasing my hands, he gently pulls the wife-beater off me and turns all his attention to my breasts. Flicking his rough thumbs over the hardened nubs, his tongue then tickles over them in counterpoint. As his squeezes get firmer, I feel his teeth on the sensitive buds and hiss in pleasure.

I see him smirk, the one I’m getting very familiar with, before he dips his head again and licks a taunting path down my stomach. He momentarily tongue fucks my bellybutton before I giggle in response. 

_Was that a giggle?_ I hear him think, and giggle again because I can’t remember the last time I made **that** sound.

Suddenly, I feel his hands spread my legs wide, his tongue is there soon after, teasing me over the silk, the heat of his mouth makes me tremble. His fingers lightly caress under the silk, teasing and not touching me near firmly enough for release.

“Please,” I ask of him.

“Please what?” he growls against my clit, his lips and heat continuing to tease.

“I want you...”

“You want me to lick you?” He flicks his tongue over my ready clit. 

“You want me to slide my fingers inside you?” His fingers finally slide into me, twisting, wiggling, spreading my wetness.

“What else do you want?”

_Do you want to come? Do you want me inside you? Anything, I’ll give you all of it._

“Yes... please...” I answer him before realizing those were his thoughts, but he’s so focused on me and my arousal, that he doesn’t notice.

Gripping the boxers, he pulls them off me quickly and he’s kneeling on the floor between my thighs, pulling off his tee-shirt. Opening his pants, his cock juts out proudly, unhindered by underwear. I watch him stroke himself. He watches me watch him. His cock grows harder in his hand, and I can barely contain myself.

I reach between my legs and my fingers take up a sensual dance over my clit. The build up to this moment has me close to the edge. I need this. I need him. And he’s right there, his fingers joining mine as he pushes his cock inside me, filling me with his substantial girth.

Thrusting and thrusting, flicking and fluttering, it’s so good, it’s so... yes... oh my... and I’m coming and he’s still plunging in and out of me. His angle changes just enough and with extra pressure against my clit, I’m coming again and I can’t breathe, I can’t stop the whimper that escapes my lips. And he pushes into me once more and groans as he comes, his body shudders against mine.

He’s still hard inside me as he rests his head on my breasts, catching his breath. I rest my hands on his head, gently stroking his hair away from his face. Sadly, I feel him slip from my body, but he doesn’t move. 

We stay like that for a few minutes more before he pulls a throw over us and curls behind me once again on the chaise lounge. The storm outside has begun to abate, and the sky is lightening in the west in time for us to watch the sun set. 

“That’s one hell of a way to ride out a thunderstorm,” I murmur softly.

His laughter starts slow, but when mine joins in, his whole body shakes as we fill the quiet condo with the sound of joy.

@@@

Dinner is a simple affair. I push back the chaise lounge, throw a red tablecloth on the floor and grab the pillows from the couch. I light a couple of candles while I wait for Eliot to join me. 

He carries in an open bottle of Sauvignon Blanc and two wine glasses, and then a tray of sushi with all the accoutrements.

“Where’d this come from?” I ask as he kneels down beside me.

“Made it,” he answers as he takes the bottle of wine and pours us each a glass.

“You did this? You know how to do that?”

“Darlin’, there are lots of things I know how to do,” he says, winking.

I laugh and shake my head, saying, “Yes, I’m sure there are.”

@@@

“You game?” I ask, shuffling the cards. “Or ya scared I’m gonna beat ya?”

I know he can’t resist a challenge.

“Deal,” he says with a wicked glint in his eyes. 

It won’t be a long game, between us we have about four pieces of clothes on.

“Five card draw, nothing wild,” I say as I deal.

He holds his thoughts like he holds his cards, tight.

“How many?”

“Two,” he says, discarding his cards into the muck.

I look at my cards; I’ve got a pair of sevens.

“Dealer takes three.”

He grins over his cards at me.

“Call,” I tell him.

“Full house, tens over sixes.”

I toss down my cards. “You win.”

Leaning forward in my chair, I reach behind my head, grip the neck of the wife-beater and pull it over my head, tossing it at him. He catches it in mid-air and then brings it up to his nose to sniff.

Setting it on the table next to him, he cocks his head to the side and says, “Not tryin’ to distract me, are ya?”

“Course not,” I answer as I lean forward, my breasts resting on the table.

“Uh-huh.” 

He smirks as he shuffles the cards and deals. 

“How many?”

“One.”

He quirks up an eyebrow at that, but he’s still very tight with is thoughts. 

“Dealer takes two.” He looks at his cards and shifts them. “Call.”

“Flush,” I smile as I lay my cards down.

“Got me.”

He stands up and for a split second I think he’s going to take off his pants. It would be a great strategy, definitely a distraction, but since there really are no losers in this game, he’s teasing instead.

I’ve seen a lot of different sides to Eliot Spencer, but when that man turns up the charm and sex appeal, it’s like standing on the sun. Burning, smoldering, sexy heat. There are five innocent buttons waiting to be unbuttoned on his shirt, and he turns each of them into a guilty pleasure. He sighs, he pouts, he bites his bottom lip, he teases me until I’m ready to rip the shirt off him with my teeth. But then, that’s exactly what he wants. His thoughts became crystal clear about ten seconds after he’d stood up. _Want it? I’m gonna give it to ya._

I watch the play of muscles across his chest and stomach as he finally lets the dark shirt slide off one shoulder and then the other. He sets the shirt on the table next to me and takes a moment to stretch, showing off the muscle definition across his shoulders and back. Some day I’m going to lick my way up, down and across his body, naming every muscle as I go.

He takes his seat across the table and looks at me expectantly.

“What?” he asks, feigning innocence.

“Nothing,” I shake my head and laugh.

I start shuffling the cards. This is the last hand and then we can move on to the more exciting part of the evening. I deal.

“How many?” 

“One,” he says like he’s got the game and me all wrapped up.

“Dealer takes none.”

His eyes flash up to mine.

“Call,” I tell him. 

He lays his cards down—full house, jacks over threes. “What’ve you got?”

I slowly lower my cards and whisper, “Four queens.”

He shakes his head and laughs. “Damn.”

Gathering the cards, he stands up and starts to walk away from the table.

“I think you’re forgetting something,” I tell him.

“Oh?” He can barely conceal the enjoyment written across his face.

“Those pants are **mine** , Spencer!” I tell him as I rise from the table.

“Gonna have to peel ‘em off me, O’Neil.”

“With pleasure.” With my teeth, I think.

He makes a fast break for the bedroom and I’m right on his heels, his ‘whoop’ of amusement echoing through the rooms.

@@@

I awaken to the smell of coffee again, but am disappointed when I roll over and encounter only an empty bed. 

“Coffee or shower first?” 

Eliot’s leaning against the bedroom door frame holding a cup of coffee, wearing only a smile.

“Can’t I have all three?” I ask, already sliding back the sheets. 

“How good are you at multitasking?” he asks, stepping closer and handing me the mug.

I take a sip of the wonderfully hot, strong and sweet coffee, and realize how much he is like this coffee. I’m sure that from now on, every time I drink coffee, he’ll cross my mind.

He looks at me expectantly as I set the mug on the bedside table. 

“Oh, I can multitask. The real question is, can **you**?”

I yelp as he hauls me out of bed, tosses me over his shoulder and carries me off to the shower.

@@@

After another cup of coffee and some toast, I head back to the bedroom to get dressed. Eliot’s sitting on the end of the bed, lacing up his boots. There’s a small furrow between his eyebrows that I’ve learned to read as something on his mind, and only have to listen into his thoughts for a second before I understand.

“If you want,” I start and he looks up at me, “you can leave your stuff here.” Meaning I like your clothes in my closet and toothbrush in my bathroom.

“You sure?” he asks. Meaning I feel comfortable and would like to spend more time here with you again.

“Yeah,” I say, leaning down to kiss him softly. Meaning I like you a lot.

“Thanks,” he says, pulling me in for another kiss. Meaning me too.

@@@

Ben has a town car waiting for us as we exit The Adeline. It’s a short drive to the airport, too short, as we pull up to the American Airlines drop-off zone. He’s flying commercial despite the offer of my private plane. 

He steps from the car, not waiting for the driver to come around. His eyes are guarded as he looks around, assessing the area. When he feels it’s safe enough, he holds his hand out to me and I step from the car, the deep slit in my black skirt parting, revealing the tops of the stockings he chose for me.

He smiles for me, because of me and it softens his whole face. I smile in return. _Yes, I wore them for you,_ I think. And I see the top seam of the white wife-beater peeking out from under his black shirt and the glint of silver in his ears as his hair blows, and know he wore them for me.

In two hundred years, I’ve never done this before. I’ve never stood at an airport and said goodbye to anyone. I have a feeling that the longer I’m involved with Eliot, the more first times I’ll have.

Security is tight and we only have a minute. 

He pulls me into his arms and kisses me so tenderly, my breath catches in my throat. So many thoughts flicker through him and it’s hard to focus on any one at a time.

_...had a great time...falling asleep next to you...way you taste...sound of your laughter...your scent...the peace...your kiss_

I want to say something, anything, but words catch in my throat as the seconds tick away.

Finally, I find my voice.

“Give me a call if you need someone to watch your back,” I tell him.

“ **Wash** my back or watch it?” he laughs.

“Either one,” I say and hug him fiercely.

He squeezes me tightly, and then with a quick kiss, he turns and starts to walk away. I realize then that he isn’t good with goodbyes either.

I turn to get back into the town car but hear my name across the busy drop-off zone. 

“Lyn!”

Turning, I see him standing near an entry door.

“See ya soon,” he calls, and then he’s gone, disappearing into the crowd, bound for Boston and another Job. 

The end.

**Author's Note:**

> Betaed and made so much better by Lydia and Kelly. Thanks bunches!!
> 
> Look What The Wind Blew In by Chris Trapper
> 
> Somebody’s plans fell through, the story of my life,  
> But I don’t mind, I always keep in mind that where you end up is the way you are,  
> And if you live to regret and you cannot forget, you find out you don’t get far,
> 
> When will my life begin,  
> Look what the wind blew in


End file.
